


taking orders

by le_mru



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Black Sails Rare Pair Week, Bondage, F/M, Femdom, John Silver might not appear but is vital, but what the hell, probably not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_mru/pseuds/le_mru
Summary: Written for the Black Sails Rare Pair Week:“To be entirely frank,” Madi says, her voice loud and clear in the silence of the evening, “I am concerned if you can take orders, Captain.”“Orders?” He scoffs. “From whom? Blackbeard?”There has been some discussion around making Teach Admiral of the fleet, which Flint was, of course, firmly against.“No.” Madi takes a step to the side and turns graciously, facing him fully. “From me.”





	taking orders

The drums still echo in Flint’s ears and mind when he enters his cabin after a long evening of celebrations with the Maroons. He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on a hook, then moves to unbuckles his belt and—some movement catches his eye.

Madi steps into the cabin from the porch.

“Good evening, Captain.”

He nods, hands still on the buckle. Madi’s posture and countenance is regal as usual, but the sash tied around her middle reminds him of pirate wear.

“Have I retired too soon?” he asks. “I was under the impression that we’d already discussed everything for today.”

“There is one point I still wish to raise.”

She steps closer, entering into the circle of light. Her face is calm but determined and Flint considers her for a moment, then sets the belt aside and turns to her unarmed.

“I am aware that you do not lend me the same credit as you do Mr Silver. So if you’re here to make sure that my intentions are clear, I can only assure you once more: they are clear.”

He cannot entirely keep the edge out of his voice, but attempts to soften the tone by opening his arms in a gesture of honesty.

“Thanks you for your assurance, but this is about a slightly different matter.” She sidesteps his outstretched arm and casts a slightly disapproving look at his cluttered desk. “What I am slightly concerned about is whether you can cooperate well with others. I have been informed that you have been a captain for at least ten years now, and a soldier long before that.”

“That is right, but I fail to see what bearing it has on our alliance.”

He is discomfited now, even a little anxious. Madi has never expressed her concerns about him this openly and has usually kept her distance, while now she is standing right behind his back. If he turns, he’ll be facing the back of her head. He does a half-turn, looking at her over his shoulder, weirdly aware of the fact that he’s begun undressing. If this was England, in his breeches and shirtsleeves he’d be considered unfit for company.

“To be entirely frank,” Madi says, her voice loud and clear in the silence of the evening, “I am concerned if you can take orders, Captain.”

“Orders?” He scoffs. “From whom? Blackbeard?”

There has been some discussion around making Teach Admiral of the fleet, which Flint was, of course, firmly against.

“No.” Madi takes a step to the side and turns graciously, facing him fully. “From me.”

Flint frowns, the meaning of the words and the situation lost on him for a second. Then Madi’s gaze travels from his face down his neck to where his shirt is widely open on his chest—they were dancing to the drums, which was not at all like the dancing he was used to, but he got the hang of it quickly, and it was so hot he unlaced his shirt—and it finally strikes him.

“I am flattered,” he says, still partially wondering if he’s not overstepping, “but I was under the impression that your interest lies with Mr Silver.”

“I already know that Mr Silver can take my orders.”

While he had some trouble digesting what she said before, this hits him full force. He’s always had a weakness for confident women, which is something Madi cannot, obviously, know, and the vision of Silver submitting to her makes him swallow. He feels colour rise in his cheeks.

“Leaving that aside for a moment,” he says, avoiding her eyes, “Madi, I—I am also twice your age.”

“Which is not of concern to me.” She extends a hand and slides it down his chest and Flint has never been particularly strong-willed when it came to this, but he makes a valiant effort. He grasps her wrist and squeezes, aiming for a warning, but she is unfazed.

“Take off your shirt,” she orders. Her brown eyes shine like steel.

He considers his options. He could decline and leave, which would undoubtedly damage their relationship--crucial for the success of their plan. He could talk her out of it--he’s talked her mother into this whole madness, so who says he’s not able to turn this particular situation around? Or he could acquiesce, gain some of her trust and--well, he does have a liking for powerful, confident women.

He pulls his shirt out of his breeches and then over his head, drops it to the side. He has a nagging feeling that anytime now Silver is going jump out from behind a chest, face murderous: _you did not pass the ‘friend’ test, Captain. Friends don’t sleep with their friend’s lovers._ What could he say? In his world they definitely do.

“Good,” Madi says. Her hand slides back up his chest and to the nape of his neck, dragging him down to her. Her lips are warm and wet and it’s so fucking enjoyable to just kiss someone like this--he’s almost forgotten, because the last time it was _Miranda_.

He breaks away, swallowing. Madi touches his cheek, something dawning in her eyes.

“We can--” she starts, but he’s all in now, no retreating, because back there lies darkness.

“What should I do now?” he rasps, chest heaving. “Tell me.”

She withdraws her hand and steps back. Her gaze is calculating, but warmer; there’s colour in her cheeks as well. She can’t know he’s done all of this before, played all of these games--or maybe she assumes he has, and she finds it arousing.

“Take off your boots and lie down,” she commands, looking him up and down.

He’s aware taking off boots while standing is not very dignified, so he sits down on his bed to do it, pulls them off, sets them aside, then lies on the bed propped up on his elbows.

“On your back,” Madi says, and so he does. He’s half hard already and has no idea when that happened. “Good. That’s good, Captain.”

She walks over to the desk and picks up his belt, then hitches up her skirt and crawls onto the bed.

“Silver’s really okay with this?” Flint blurts out, because apparently he can’t go a minute without thinking about Silver.

“He said we should do whatever it takes for our alliance to work.” Madi straddles him and unspools the belt. “Your hands, please.”

She’s so polite and matter-of-fact, so in control that it actually gets to him. He doubts he’d have it in him to do something like this and to be so cool about it, Jesus Christ.

He brings his hands together and lets her tie them together with his belt, which takes some effort, and with each movement she brushes against his erection. He clenches his jaw, watching her closely. He’s still unsure what brought this on--they have their differences and the discussions have sometimes become a little heated, and he’s admired her for her reason, her quiet strength, the authority she holds with Maroons, but nothing has ever suggested a turn for the carnal--at least until the dance. He danced with Madi in Silver’s stead, and did not think of it much back then. That must have been an oversight.

Madi pulls at his bound hands and pins them over his head. This movement brings her very close to his face and he draws in a breath.

She kisses him slowly, languidly. He wills his mind empty and enjoys it, surging after her when she draws back, but she presses him back to the bed with a firm hand on his chest.

“Lie back,” she says. There’s a playful note in her voice now, and he obeys, but shifts his hips underneath her. She arches her eyebrow at him and he thinks, _this is something I could get used to_.

Madi unlaces and strips off her shirt. Her breasts are heavy and full, bigger than--he forcibly steers away from that comparison, focusing on the present instead. Madi is breathtaking in all respects and he should make sure he appreciates it.

His hands yearn to touch her breasts, fingers twitching uselessly, but he has to settle for looking. Madi pins her locks up on her head and bends down to press her lips to his neck and chest, tracing his old scars and a new bruise, the one that Silver knocked into him when they practiced on the cliff in the morning. She moves further down, straddling his thigh now, rocking against it, and he bends his knee to create more leverage for her.

She glances at him curiously, with a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, and unlaces his breeches. By this point he is completely devoid of any concern outside of this, blessedly empty, more than willing to do anything she might want, so when she draws him out and guides him inside, his eyes roll back in his skull. She still has her skirt on, so he does not see where their bodies are joined, but that does not matter much with how good it feels. He hasn’t even realized how starved he was for this before she approached him.

Madi rides him enthusiastically, her hands on his chest, breasts swaying. The bed creaks rhythmically and he registers the pace quickening, so maybe she’s close, but then Madi slips off of him and moves up his body. There’s no order this time, but he can tell what she wants. They struggle for a moment with his bound hands being in the way, but finally she sits on his face and he uses his mouth to the best of his ability.

Madi comes quickly from it, shakes wordlessly over him. He watches smugly from below until she raises one knee and moves to the side. Her thighs are trembling.

“Thank you, Captain.” She unbinds his hands and moves one of them to his own cock, still standing at attention. “You did well.”

It’s soon over for him as well. Madi rolls to the side and gets up, brisk and businesslike, leans down to pick up her shirt. He watches her from the bed, debauched and glad for it.

“So I’m guessing this closes the issue of my unwillingness to cooperate?” he asks once Madi has dressed herself and is getting ready to leave.

“I would say it sheds some light on it,” Madi replies, tightening the sash around her middle. “But there are other areas you would need to prove yourself, Captain, and I think you know that this is not an implication of further fraternization.”

He nods, ignoring the slight pang of disappointment.

“I did not expect anything else,” he says, voice steady.

“I am glad we are of one mind then. Good night.”

And just like that, she leaves. Flint lies flat on the bed for a little while, unsuccessfully trying to wrap his mind around what’s just happened, and then rolls over and gets up to clean up. It’s a nice evening, so he takes the torch and a book and ducks outside, for a second worried that Silver might be sitting on the porch, but he’s not.


End file.
